Hold Me Tight
by beccaecka
Summary: A romantic/hurtcomfort fanfiction starring the Beatles.  Based in 1964.  LDS fiction as well.    The rest is found here: /beccaeckabeatlesfic/


**Chapter 1**

James Wilding was a fantastic young man. He was polite, caring, handsome, faithful, witty, and very tall. Sarah Taylor loved him with all her heart, and he loved her.

The two of them were staying at his parent's apartment in New York (separate rooms, of course). James sold hospital equipment, and his skills were needed. The job was hard, but paid well. Soon it would support both him and Sarah, for they were engaged. James's parents were wonderful, loving people. They were both strong in their LDS faith, and loved Sarah almost as much as James did.

Life was fantastic for Sarah. She couldn't believe her luck in having such a wonderful fiancé. Her schooling had just finished, and she would soon be a teacher. Her talents ranged from art to music, that of which she was very proud of. She couldn't wait to be married to James in an LDS temple.

However, all of that changed one stormy night in February while they were still in New York.

"You know I don't like night clubs, or any clubs for that matter," Sarah pleaded as she was lead by James up a street. The rain was drizzling on them as they plodded on.

"Don't worry, you'll love this one. I'm meeting some recent friends of mine just to hang," Jim assured. "No drinking, I promise."

Those of the LDS faith know that strong drink such as alcohol is looked down on within their religion. It was distasteful and vulgar. Most of all, Sarah hated the taste, and so did James.

The night club sign loomed ahead. The neon 'Club 21' sign buzzed at her. She felt as if a rock had dropped in her stomach. She could tell something was already wrong.

The strong smell of cigarettes greeted the couple's noses. Sarah coughed and put a hand over her mouth. James scanned the surroundings until he saw some familiar faces. The men were gesturing toward them. He and Sarah headed over to the corner and sat in a dark green velvet booth. Sarah tried to keep her cool as she was introduced to each of the three men sitting across from her.

"This is my fiancée, Sarah. Sarah, this is Patrick, David, and Sean. They work in the hospital I'm installing the x-ray machine for."

Sarah smiled and shook hands with each of the men. James beamed.

The rest of the night was mostly filled with chatter that Sarah could not keep up with, and also the occasional declined offer of a drink. It seemed that every five minutes, some scantily clad waitress was offering them an alcoholic beverage of some sort. Sarah was appalled.

"I'm going to find a restroom," Sarah said, touching James lightly on the shoulder. He moved so that she could get out of the booth. She scanned the area until she saw a dimly lit restroom sign, and made her way toward it.

The restroom was just like the rest of the club, only more wretched. Grime was built up on everything, and horrifying posters stared at her from every wall. They were even on the inside of the stall doors. She took as little time as she could inside.

On her way back to the table, she noticed something that had not been there before. James had a drink in front of him. It was just a bottle of beer, but that was not like him at all. In fact, to the two of them, it was a sin.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Sarah said, aghast.

James sighed and looked up at her. "It's just one, hon. It won't do any harm. They bought it for me," he gestured at the three men, all of whom were almost falling over from drunkenness.

"You don't want to be like them, do you?" Sarah pleaded. "One is more than you should have."

"Don't worry, babe," James said as he pulled her in to the booth with him. He ordered another round of drinks.

Sarah couldn't believe it. Her James was becoming more and more intoxicated as time passed. She knew it would have a bad effect on him, since he had never drunken before. She feared how he would act later, and also what his parents would think. She grimaced; they might blame her. She felt timid, and had no idea how to handle the situation. She was afraid of rejection.

"James, you've had enough, I think," Sarah said softly, looking at her watch. It was already one in the morning. James had had at least four beers. "Let's go home." She pulled him on his feet, and helped him through the practically deserted club.

Outside, the rain was pouring. Sarah struggled to pull out her umbrella as she tried to support James. "You shouldn't have done that," Sarah said grudgingly. "You know better than that. You said you would never, and just look at you. You're drunk as those other guys!"

James looked at her with an intoxicated stare. "Awh, lay off, Sss..Sarah. You worry too much. Nobody will know what I did." He swayed. Sarah half grabbed-half hugged him.

"I love you, James. I only want the best for us."

"Us? You?" James suddenly burst out, pushing her off of him. "Why is it always just only 'bout you, huh? You always have to have your musics and your ff-faith and all these other stupid things."

Sarah was horrified. "What are you talking about?"

The rain continued to pour on them both, on the dimly lit street. James pointed a shaking finger at her.

"You are an obnoxious, clingy... girl," he spat. Tears filled Sarah's eyes.

"You don't mean that," she said defiantly. "You're drunk. Let's get you home before you do anything else you'll regret." She tried to put his arm around her shoulder. He pushed her away.

"You ungrateful little girl," James raged. "You don't foresee all that I have might done with... hic... you!" He raised one hand. Lightning flashed in the sky. Sarah tried to keep him away from her, but the blow was too strong. She slid backward on the pavement, and cried out in pain.

"What do you think you are doing?" She yelled, standing. "How DARE you hit me!" She stepped back from him. Her anger burned behind her deep, blue eyes.

"We're through, Suh-Sarah," James shouted, picking up her abandoned umbrella and hanging it over his head. "I am finished with your accusations! These last few months have been HELL!"

"What accusations?" Sarah protested. Too late; he was on her fast as lightning. She'd never known such pain. Before she knew what had happened, he was gone.

The rain made it hard for her to see. She could only use one eye as she trudged down the flooded street, the other was swollen shut. Not a soul was around to help her, and she didn't know where she was going. Not even a taxi drove by. Not that it mattered; she didn't have any money with her. James had it, but he was long gone.

After what seemed like hours, Sarah saw a familiar building. It was the Wilding's apartment complex. Relieved, she pulled out her copy of their key and went inside.

The elevator was foreboding and empty. Sarah didn't know what to expect when she got to the front door of the apartment. She just wanted everything that had happened to disappear and never come back.

The doors slid open and she stepped out onto the fifth floor. The first door on the right stood ajar. It was the door that belonged to the parent's apartment. Sarah quietly went inside.

Something wasn't right. All of her belongings were scattered around the front entrance to the apartment; her clothes, her bag, and the camera her father had given her. She then heard shouting from the next room. James's mother appeared.

"_There_ you are, you little _harlot_!" She screamed at Sarah.

"What?" Sarah was dumbfounded. _ Harlot_? What was going on?

"How dare you show your face here! Look at you, bruised and bleeding because of some man!" She yelled. James's father entered behind her, looking sullen and grim.

"Get out of here," he said in a deep voice.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah cried, trying to hold back tears.

"You know very well what we are talking about," Mrs. Wilding spat. "James told us everything about your sleeping with other men for extra money! He finally caught on, since those marks on you plainly gave it away."

Sarah was numb. James had said that? Suddenly, he appeared, looking angry. His drunkenness had subsided in to rage. Sarah realized this was the end, just by the look in his once sparkling eyes. Now they were dark. It was as if he believed his own story, the story to cover up his own mistakes.

"Get out," Mr. Wilding repeated in a low tone.

Mrs. Wilding leaned over, picked up Sarah's bag, and shoved it toward her. "Get out of my house, NOW."

Sarah picked up the only other belonging she could reach, and bolted from the room. She threw herself in to the elevator. She sat on the floor and sobbed the entire way down. Confusion washed over her, and all she could do was find her way out of the now haunting building. Not knowing where to go, with nothing with her but her bag and her camera, she stumbled off down the dark wet street, crying her heart out.

**Chapter 2**

Every object in the street cast a shadow directly in Sarah's path. She stumbled along in the still pouring rain. Her whole body was completely drenched. She kept her camera under her thin coat, trying to keep it from getting wet. Each step she took tired her even more.

Her watch said two thirty. It seemed like it had been an eternity.

New York suddenly seemed very unforgiving. The rain had finally stopped, but it was still dark and wet. All she wanted was a shred of comfort, but what she got was empty, soaking wet New York in the middle of the night. She passed a few busy night clubs, not daring to go in to ask for support. She'd never touch one of those places again. She kept her eyes focused on the ground.

"Overly dramatic idiot," Sarah muttered to herself. "You should have known better." She rummaged around in her pocket, in search of spare change. Thankfully there were a few nickels, enough for her to use a payphone to call home long distance.

Something hard hit her square in the chest. She hit the ground and heard a loud crunch, which could only be her camera making contact with the pavement. Unable to take any more, she started sobbing into her scraped up hands.

"I'm so sorry, miss," a sweet, apologetic voice met her ears. "I wasn't looking where I was going." Gentle hands pulled her off the ground. She looked around where she fell. Her camera was smashed to pieces. She continued to cry.

"Don't cry, luv. I'm sorry, I am. I really didn't mean to run into you, honest." That voice seemed somewhat familiar. It was almost as if he was trying to disguise it.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded, trying to comfort her without handling her too much. "Where were you headed off to?"

Sarah felt stupid. Here she was, a twenty one year old woman, sniveling in front of a complete stranger. She stopped crying and shook her head.

"I was kicked out," she managed to say. "I'm not going anywhere. I haven't anywhere to go. I've got no money, no family around here, and no... no..." She couldn't finish. She looked up at the stranger, but couldn't make out his face. He was soaking wet, too. He wore a long trench coat, a scarf, and a military style cap. He also had a moustache, but it looked a bit unreal.

The man looked around nervously. "I'll help you out, miss," he said finally after no reply. "Would yeh like me to help?" He cleared his throat. "I can't let yeh stay out here in the dark, especially with the rain. That wouldn't be righ'."

Sarah nodded. He put his arm around her, and led her up the street, leaving the ruined camera behind. A few blocks later, they were in a livelier part of town. A large hotel loomed ahead, but she could not make out the name, her eyes were blurry from crying. She never bothered to look up at the man's face. She knew it wouldn't matter anyway, just as long as she was getting some help. She couldn't understand why she trusted him.

The doorman stopped them for a split second. "Sir you can't," he started to say.  
>"It's me," the man helping Sarah said. The doorman nodded, shot a puzzled look at Sarah, and then let them pass.<p>

Fifteen floors later, the two emerged from the elevator. Sarah was exhausted. The man seemed pretty tired as well.

"Thank you, really," Sarah started to say.

"No worries," the man said in his fake voice. He approached a door.

"Um," he said nervously. "You might want to wait out here first, if that's alright."

"No problem," Sarah sighed. She sat down, leaning against the wall. Her clothes were soaked, forming a pool around her on the floor.

The man entered the room. No sooner had he closed the door behind him when Sarah could hear frantic voices. There were about six, she guessed. She decided to examine the contents of her bag while she waited. She had no idea what was in it.

She found a set of her house keys. Those would be useful if she were still in her home town. Then she found a compact, a keychain of the Beatles which her younger sister had given her, a folded up receipt, and half of a Mars bar. Perfect. She really did have nothing. Well, except for that glorious shred of chocolate goodness. She devoured the soaked candy bar at once.

After much more frantic talking, the door finally opened. Sarah looked up, and saw a man she thought was familiar. He knelt beside her.

"What's your name?" He asked her sweetly.

"Sarah," she said quietly. "Sarah Taylor."

"Where are you from?"

"Well, I was staying in an apartment, but I got forced out of where I was staying about an hour ago. I'm really from Utah."

"Utah, huh? That's a long way away. Would you like to come in? We've got somebody here who would like to help you out."

Sarah was relieved. "That would be wonderful," she said gratefully. He helped her off of the ground.  
>"By the way, my name is Brian Epstein. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said sweetly as he led her into the hotel room.<p>

That name certainly rang a bell, but from where?

The room was finely decorated. There were two comfortable looking couches and a television to one side, a kitchen in the back, and two hallways on either side of the room. There were traces of other life, like bits of paper and... Cuban heeled boots? Where had she seen those before? Her mind buzzed. This was an expensive suite.

A young, blonde woman emerged from one of the hallways, carrying a first-aid kit.

"Have a seat here and we'll have a look at those scrapes and bruises," Brian said. He gestured toward one of the couches.

Sarah sat down. She winced from the pain in her tailbone. That last fall was still prominent. She removed her coat and was relieved of it as Brian hung it on a coat rack. He then left the suite.

The woman smiled, and gently began to clean the scrapes on Sarah's hands. She winced.  
>"What happened to you?" the woman asked kindly. "Did you fall?"<p>

"Not at first," Sarah replied. "I was... pushed I guess."

"Ah, I see." The woman had gentle hands. She then brought out an ice pack for. "You'll want to ice that," she said, motioning toward Sarah's swollen eye and cheek.

"What's your name?" Sarah asked, trying to keep some small talk. She placed the cold pack on her eye. It was a little awkward being taken care of by somebody she had just barely met.

The woman took her time to reply. "My name is Cynthia," she said.

"I love that name," Sarah smiled.

Cynthia smiled, too. "So does my husband," she said, glowing.

"Oh, you're married? That's lovely." Sarah grimaced a little. She remembered she was still wearing her engagement ring. She didn't want to take it off now, Cynthia would be curious. She sat on her left hand.

"Yes, it's been a bit rough, but I'm very happy. I have a wonderful little boy named Julian. He's almost a year old, now."

Sarah tried to act intrigued. "Is he here now?"

"No, he's back at home in England."

Sarah was stunned. "England? What are you doing here from England?"

Cynthia paused, and then got up. "All done," she said, turning and going back to her room. Sarah felt a bit downhearted. She hadn't meant to pry.

Sarah allowed herself to become limp on the soft couch. It felt like heaven. She wanted to sleep right there.

"Better?" Brian had returned. He was carrying a hotel key. "I've secured a room for you just across the hallway. It'll be available for the same amount of time that we are here." He handed the key to Sarah.

"Sir, you really don't need to do this," Sarah said in an apologetic voice. "I can't just..."

"Nonsense. Ri... my member of staff... told me of your situation. I insist you accept." Brian replied briskly.

"Your employees stay in the same suite as you?" Sarah asked in a puzzled voice.

"Yes... well, no. I have a different suite. I was just in here waiting for one of them to return. You see, he didn't tell us he was going out. He wasn't supposed to in the first place, and to have him return so late, and with a girl..." he paused. Sarah felt a bit hurt. "No offense to you, I mean, Miss Taylor. It's just… the timing was a bit off. We have a rehearsal tomorrow morning, and he can't miss it." He suddenly seemed distracted. "I'll be right back... stay here for a moment."

Brian left her there and disappeared down one of the halls in the suite. Minutes later, Sarah could hear several people emerging. _Oh no, an audience_. She looked up at the three men in front of her, all dressed in pajamas. One had wet hair. Sarah almost had a heart attack. There he was, the man that had helped her, only he was now moustache-less.

"Great face, miss," one said in a thick accent. "Best one I've seen in a while."

"Lay off, John, she's probably shocked out of her wits," the one next to him said. He and the other two sat down on the coffee table.

The one who had spoken second held out his hand to her.

"How ya doin'? The names James Paul McCartney," he faked a hilarious Irish accent unlike his original. Sarah shook his hand, not knowing quite what to say.

"My turn, my turn," the first said. He suddenly put in a serious face. "Hullo. My name is John Winston Lennon." He held out a rigid hand. Sarah smiled as she shook it. He swiftly turned playful again. He put his arm around the last one's neck. "And this here's Ringo. He's the one that brought yeh here."

"Gerroff, John!" Ringo said, embarrassed. He held out his hand to her, which she took. His handshake was more meaningful. She liked it. Her fingers rubbed against two of his famous rings.

"Awh, wittle Wingo, helping wittle girlies. Is that your new occupation, Rings? Cor, yeh might be better at it than drummin'." John let out a hearty laugh. Everybody else stared at him until he stopped. He looked slightly embarrassed.

"Thank you for helping me, err... Ringo," she didn't like calling him that in front of him. "Can I call you by your real name?" She asked. He laughed.

"Of course, anything for you, miss... miss... what was your name, again?"

"Sarah Taylor," she said. She couldn't help but smile at all three of their accents.

"Very nice to meet you, Miss Taylor," Paul said politely.

"Taylor? So yer a girl and a lad, eh?" John joked.

Sarah laughed a little. "Sure," she said. "Um... aren't there supposed to be four of you?"

The three Beatles laughed. "Yeah, George decided to get sick when we got here. He's in bed." Ringo gestured toward one of the hallways. "Sleepin' like a baby, he is. Poor bloke."

"We've got a rehearsal for the Ed Sullivan show tomorrow," Paul said. "Big stuff, that is."

"I'll say," Sarah replied. "I used to watch his show every Sunday."

"Why don'tcha anymore?" John asked.

"The apartment I was staying in had no TV..."

The three gasped, and then laughed. "No TV! What the bloody hell do you do all day?"

Ringo kindly leaned forward. "Do you mind if I ask what happened tonight, or... is it a bit... awkward for me to... ask... never mind." His face turned red.

Sarah felt herself turn red as well. "I can tell you later," she replied in a low voice. Brian entered just then. Sarah wondered if he had built-in radar.

Brian sat next to Sarah, waving off the three lads. "Cynthia has graciously agreed to let you use one of her night dresses and robe." He handed her a bundle of clothes. "Good night, miss. Don't worry about thing. Everything is taken care of. Feel free to use room service all you want in the morning." He then said, "Take miss Taylor to her room, Ringo."

Sarah thanked Brian and followed Ringo to her suite.

The suite she had was the same as the other. She felt like a rich woman with a giant room all to herself.

"Thank you, Richard," Sarah said in a tired voice. She felt dizzy with fatigue. "I'll make it up to you someday."  
>"No need, miss. Good night." He paused for a moment, before leaving. He closed the door softly behind him.<p>

Sarah stood in the middle of the room, trying to absorb what had just happened. She had been beaten by her fiancé, her fiancé's parents kicked her out into the cold, and she had been saved by a Beatle. Not only that, but Brian had actually paid for a suite for her. She kicked off her shoes and proceeded to one of the bedrooms.

The inside was tastefully decorated with soft green blankets and pillows with gold trim. The furniture was spectacularly carved wood with matching green upholstery.

Next to the large four poster bed was a small night table. Sarah approached it, and to her surprise, found a pile of twenty dollar bills and a note. She picked it up and read,  
>'Dear Miss Taylor, I hope you'll enjoy your stay here. These are to help you get back to where you need to be. Feel free to ring if you need anything. Yours, Brian Epstein'<p>

Sarah set the card back on the table, and collapsed on the bed. She didn't bother to change her clothes.

The peaceful silence of the hotel brought the day's events flooding back. She let out a mournful sob, pushing her face in to a pillow and allowing sleep to take hold.

Ringo stood in the hallway for a few moments. _That girl was so strange, yet so... appealing_. He'd never felt this way before about anyone. He felt it was his responsibility to protect her, and he had no idea why.

"What a peculiar situation," he said to himself as he left the door. He re-entered the Beatle suite and was greeted by Paul and John.

"So, didja kiss her?" John asked with big eyes.

"Naw," Ringo shot him an irritated look. "You don't kiss every girl you meet. It's just not done."

"Right, right," John pretended to look guilty.

"So what did she say?" Paul asked.

"Nothing really. She thanked me... and that's all, really," Ringo replied.

"Ooooooohhhhh Ringo's got a gurl friend," teased Paul. He and John linked arms and began to dance around the suite.

"Lay off, you two," an irritated Ringo spat. "She'll probably go back to where she came from and never speak to me again."

Paul and John stopped their dance. "Um, hello?" John tapped Ringo on the forehead. "You're a Beatle, remember? She'll be all over you when she's back to normal."

"I agree. Of course, I think you shouldn't have brought her here. Brian was fuming." Paul folded his arms.

"I want her to come with us," Ringo said blankly.

"Say what?" said John. Ringo felt his face get hot.

"I want her to come to Washington D.C. with us," Ringo said.

"There is no way Brian would allow it," Paul retorted. Ringo ignored him.

"I'm going to ask her tom..." he started to say.

"Ask Brian first," Paul said sternly.

"Yeah, Rings, ask ol' pap or he'll be a grouch to ya for the rest of the trip. Oh wait, he's going to be anyway." John stuck out his tongue.

Ringo ignored him. He pushed past them both, and headed to his room.

"You cannot buy your happiness, my son," John yelled after him.

"Save it for the movies," Ringo responded. He closed his door behind him.

**Chapter 3 **

"Ringo! Get up!"

Ringo jolted from his semi-conscious, nightmare filled state. He heard banging on his door.

"C'mon, we're going to be late for the rehearsal. Don't make me come in there!"

"Go away, John, I'm up." Ringo slid out of his bed. _What a dream_. He got dressed quickly and left his room.

A sickly George greeted him in the kitchen. He looked worse than yesterday. He was still in his pajamas and bath robe. "So, I heard you brought a complete stranger to our humble hotel room," he said. Ringo froze for a moment. _So, it hadn't been a dream then... weird._

"Yeah, that's right," Ringo replied slowly. "Hey, are you feelin' any better yet?"

George rolled his eyes. "Do I look any better?" Ringo shook his head with a smirk.

"Alright, boys, time to go to the rehearsal," Brian stuck his head in the room, and then back out. They could hear him whistling down the hall.

"Whoever invented getting up early is a bloomin' idiot," Paul yawned as he entered, still tying his tie.

"Ya big whiner," John sniggered. He brought in a box of biscuits. "Eat up, you lot. Brian is going to have heart attack if we don't get in the car at five thirty three, sharp!"

Ringo ignored the biscuits and bolted out of the door toward Brian.

"Err, Brian," Ringo gathered as much courage as he could as he placed himself in front of his manager. "Can I ask you something?"

"Does it concern the young woman that you brought home last night?" Brian asked.

"Yeah," Ringo replied sheepishly. Brian set down his briefcase and folded his arms.

"Well, what is it?"

"I was wonderin' if she could maybe come with us to Washington D.C..." Ringo braced himself for a moment. Brian stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Brian furrowed his brow. "It wouldn't go down well with the journalists. They'd have a field day if they knew we were bringing a stranger along that we picked up randomly, especially a girl."

"We could pretend she is a journalist," Ringo said softly. He felt like a child in trouble.

Brian stroked his chin. "That could work... Alright."

Ringo lit up. "Really? Alright! Thanks, Brian!" He bolted back into the room, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and sat on the couch.

Sarah woke with a throbbing headache. She glanced at the clock on the night stand; ten thirty in the morning. She groaned and got out of the bed. With a shock she realized she was in a hotel room.

"Ohh... right," she mumbled as she trudged to the bathroom. She looked up at her reflection. Her face was red, with purple around her left eye and a big, dark mark on her cheek. Her chin was littered with small scrapes and bruises from falling. Her hair was matted, and frizzy. Her makeup was obliterated, running down her face at odd angles.

"Wow, I look terrible." She looked around the rest of the bathroom. It was decorated with a large bathtub, sink, and toilet. The towel rack was overflowing with big, white, fluffy towels with gold thread embroidery. There was also a big, puffy bathrobe hanging on a hook on the door. The bathtub shelf had an arrangement of soap and shampoo.

Sarah leaned over the tub and turned on the faucet. She then stripped, grabbed a washcloth, and climbed in. Her bruised body accepted the warm water with pleasure. She sighed with relief.

After washing herself and her hair, Sarah examined the rest of the suite. The kitchen came with a refrigerator, a coffee brewer, and an oven. The front room had the same couches as the opposite suite, and the same TV. Sarah noticed a box on the side table. Inside she found assorted chocolates.

"This is my kind of hotel." She grabbed a chocolate and plopped on the couch.

A bit of white on the floor caught her eye. She got up and examined the object by the door. It was a piece of paper. She picked it up, and began to read.

'_Miss Sarah, I hope you slept well. I'm sorry it was a bit awkward for you to be around me and my mates (and my manager). We... ok actually I, would like to invite you to come along with us on the rest of our tour here in America. If you don't want to, that's alright. Make sure you watch us on the Ed Sullivan show at 8pm. Don't miss it! I will be very sad if you do. –__Ringo__ Richard _

_P.S. Come by the suite tonight at about ten for some tea. We're having a small get together.'_

Sarah re-read the letter twice. She couldn't believe she was being asked to go along with the Beatles on the rest of their tour. She didn't know where they were going after D.C. and she didn't know what the situation with James was going to be like.

She glanced at her hand. The single diamond engagement ring sparkled in the artificial light. She took it off and threw it. She suddenly felt white-hot anger seep through her. She began to throw pillows and cushions in random directions. Her anger tapered after she knocked a lamp onto the floor, breaking it in two. She flung herself onto the couch, face down, and lay there for a while.

At about three o'clock, Sarah decided she'd better call her mother. She was probably worried. Not knowing quite what to say first, she dialed the number.

"Hello?"

"Mom, it's me," Sarah started. Her mother interrupted her.

"Sarah! Oh my goodness where have you been! I've been so worried! I called the Wilding's but they said you'd walked out on them! Why did you walk out on them? How could you do that to me? What about poor James?" She went on and on.

"Mom, mom! I didn't walk out on them, they... they kicked me out," Sarah sighed. She then proceeded to tell her mother exactly what had happened last night. However, she left out the Beatle part, and just said that a nice, rich man had helped her.

"That's very kind of him," her mother said. "Did you get his name?"

"Uh, yeah, it's... Richard."

"Well, I am sorry about James, dear. Are you going to be alright? When are you coming home?"

"Err, maybe in a few weeks." Sarah didn't know how to tell her about D.C.

"What? What are you going to do in New York for a few more weeks? You need to come home now," her mother sounded tense again.

"No, mom, I've got it covered. I have enough money to get me though. I'll call you later, okay?"

Her mother sighed. "Alright, Sarah. You call me tomorrow, okay? I want to make sure you're all right."

"Ok, mom. See ya," Sarah hung up the phone. She walked over to the window in the kitchen. The street below was crowded with shop goers.

"Well, I do need clothes," she said to herself as she busied herself fixing her hair as best she could. She had no make-up, hairbrush, hair dryer, or even a simple comb. She decided she'd better indulge herself at the hairdresser as well.

Sarah rushed into the elevator. Her hair now looked like a Mary Tyler Moore bouffant flip, but with bangs and a light green headband. It was simple, but not too simple. She'd found it hard to find something agreeable to wear. She was used to jeans and a tee-shirt back home. She settled with a plain grey ensemble, complete with blouse, skirt, and long jacket with plain black heels and a plain black belt around her waist. Her blouse matched the color of her headband.

On her floor, she bolted out, almost dropping one of her bags. The stubborn lock on the door finally gave way, and she slammed the door behind her. Abandoning her bags on the floor, she switched on the TV and flopped on the couch. The black and white figure of Ed Sullivan appeared.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles!" The excitement could be felt all throughout the area. Sarah felt a jolt as the Beatles appeared on the screen. It was as if the whole world had stopped just to watch this short, epic segment of music, even if not everybody knew how important it would be.

"_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you. Tomorrow, I'll miss you..._" The music filled her suite. She wished she was watching this with her younger sister, who was more into the Beatles then she was.

It was different seeing them on TV, now that she had actually met them face to face. It was almost unreal.

The words, 'Sorry girls, he's married' appeared in front of John. Sarah smiled, thinking of Cynthia.

The program didn't last very long, but it was something she'd never forget. She switched off the TV.

At ten o'clock, Sarah knocked on the door across the hall. She stood there, dressed in her new clothes, feeling every inch a freak. She didn't want to be like other women in New York, but she had no choice.

The door opened. It was Ringo who greeted her warmly. He was wearing a light, blue dress shirt and black slacks with his pair of signature Beatle boots. "Glad to see you again," he said, putting his hand on her back and leading her in. "You look wonderful."

The suite was full of people. Sarah could pick out a few familiar faces. Cynthia and John were sitting on one couch, each smoking a cigarette. Paul was busy chatting with a pair of wealthy looking men. George appeared to be sulking in a corner, talking to their road manager, Mal Evans. A few unfamiliar people were spread around, all busy chatting lively. This wasn't the small get together she had pictured, but she didn't mind.

"May I take your coat?" Ringo asked politely. Sarah slipped it off and handed it to him. He moved toward a coat rack in the corner and placed it there.

"Ah, Miss Taylor. Glad to see you are feeling better," Brian said in passing. Sarah smiled at him.

Ringo led her to one of the couches. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked politely.

"No thank you," Sarah replied. Ringo seemed a bit put out, but recovered quickly.

"Who are all these people?" Sarah asked, surveying the room more thoroughly.

"Friends and colleagues of Brian, I guess," Ringo said. He shook hands with a rather excited man. He returned his gaze to Sarah.

"So, how are you?" He asked a bit awkwardly.

"I'm alright," Sarah replied. "I feel better than I did last night. I'm sure I look better, too."

Ringo laughed a little. It made Sarah smile.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, I was just admiring your laugh," she giggled. "It's adorable."  
>Ringo turned red. Sarah put her hand on his knee. "Thank you so much for what you did last night, really," she said sincerely. "I can't tell you how grateful I am."<p>

"It was no problem," he replied. He put his arm around her. "It's always nice to meet new people, right?" Sarah nodded.

Occasionally somebody would come over to the pair and try to chat with Ringo. He didn't seem too keen on making conversation with anybody but Sarah, which made her very happy.

"So, have you decided if you want to come with us to D.C. yet?" Ringo asked casually.

"I would be delighted to come," Sarah answered with a wink. She immediately felt stupid for doing that. Despite this, Ringo's face lit up.

"Fantastic," was his reply.

"Why is that 'fantastic'?" Sarah asked in a puzzled tone.

"Err... no particular reason. You seem... nice," he replied sheepishly. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?"

"I don't drink," she replied.

"May I ask why?" he asked carefully.

"I just don't. It's part of my faith, and also I find it unappetizing," she replied easily.

"Ohh... right." He still looked puzzled.

The night was easy going and enjoyable. Sarah enjoyed rubbing shoulders with some of the colorful and important people of New York City. She didn't know who many of them were, but she had fun nonetheless.

Toward one in the morning, John stumbled over to Sarah and Ringo and held out a bottle of brandy.

"For the two of yeh," he said with a drunken grin. Sarah smiled warily.

"No thanks, mate," Ringo said as he pushed the drink away. He had stayed sober the whole night for Sarah. She was grateful. "She doesn't drink." He put his hand on hers. She felt a surge of longing jolt through her. She tried not to think about James.

"Awh, come now luv," John insisted. He inched his face closer to hers. She looked around for Cynthia, but she was busy chatting with two other women. She felt John's hot breath on her face.

"That's enough, John," Ringo said in a harsh tone. He turned to Sarah. "You'll have to excuse him. He gets a bit odd when he's drunk." He tried to persuade John away, but he resisted. A few people started to detect the hubbub.

John tried to push bottle on Sarah's face. Revolted, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, sending him across the table, into the television. The monitor fell onto his stomach. He let out a loud, "Oof!" The room erupted with laughter. John got up disoriented, and took a shaky bow spilling brandy all over the carpet.  
>Sarah tried to blow it off.<p>

_Stay calm_, she told herself. _Don't over react_.

Ringo, trying to change the mood, decided they should linger with Paul and Jane Asher. Sarah had never seen her before, but she'd heard great things.

"Why'd yeh push over a Beatle, miss? Who gave you tha' right, huh?" Sarah felt a poke on her shoulder. It was another drunken man. Sarah ignored him.

"Ay! I was talkin' to yah," he spat. Sarah turned toward Ringo with a pleading look. Ringo, sensing more trouble, put his arm around her and led her to the kitchen where Cynthia and a few other girls were chatting lively. Sarah tried to join in, but couldn't catch on to the excited gab. Ringo watched the man carefully for the rest of the night.

Finally, the party wound down at three in the morning. Sarah felt tired and irritated. She despised alcohol and its effects. Ringo, ever loyal throughout the ordeal, offered to walk her across the hall to her suite.

"Good night, miss," George called from the couch as they left. Sarah smiled at him before leaving, Ringo following.

"Sorry about John," he said with his hands in his pockets. "I wish he hadn't been such a prick."

"Don't worry about it," Sarah replied softly. "I've been to plenty of parties. Well, not quite like this, but you get the idea." She smiled a little.

Ringo shuffled his feet. "So, about Washington D.C., Brian wants you to be disguised as a reporter so that suspicious questions don't arise. He wants you to come, but he doesn't want a big fuss about us bringing with us a girl we just happened to pick up in New York."

Sarah liked the idea of being in disguise. "What kind of disguise do you mean, exactly?"

"Err, fake name? Glasses maybe?" Ringo couldn't think of anything more.

"I'll surprise you," Sarah said. "I've got all day to prepare anyway."

"That you do, miss." Ringo couldn't help but look into her beautiful eyes. Sarah didn't mind, until she suddenly felt a pang of loss. She looked away. Ringo looked down.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't... I mean it isn't fair... I..."

"No, it's alright. Really, I just..." Sarah didn't know what to say.

"Well, good night. I'll see you Tuesday morning at six." He turned away. Sarah watched him disappear into his suite. She entered her own, feeling shock and loneliness sweep over her.

**Chapter 4**

Tuesday morning came with a jolt. The cold air greeted the Beatles as they left the hotel on their way to the train station. Though it was freezing, and it was six o'clock in the morning, a few fans chased after their car, screaming and grabbing their faces. They finally gave up after a few blocks, rubbing their hands together and huffing in the cold wind.

Ringo sat between Paul and John in the back seat, and George sat upfront next to Neil Aspinall, their other roadie who was driving.

The car drove past many tall, ominous buildings. Ringo worried about Sarah. She was riding with Cynthia, John's aunt, and Mal, and they would be joining them at the station.

The car pulled up to the station. A crowd of girls greeted them. John groaned as he opened the door. The four Beatles booked it across the pavement, into the station, through the ticket taker, and onto the train.

"Over here, lads," a reporter said. They were in a private car full of reporters. George, still feeling under the weather, climbed up onto a luggage rack and settled down for a catnap. John and Paul headed over to a corner of the car. Ringo assumed they were going to write more songs.

"The press may begin their questions," Brian said as he entered the car. "The journey will take about five hours, so enjoy the time you have."

Ringo searched the car. He didn't see Sarah anywhere. _Of course you don't_, he thought. _She'll be in disguise like you told her to_. He didn't see Cynthia either, but he knew she was traveling in a car closer to the front with John's aunt to avoid the press.

The train finally set off. Ringo slumped into a seat, and answered a few questions from various reporters. One man asked him why the Beatles answer press questions the way they do. _What a stupid thing to ask_.

"Well... we just answer the way we feel, you know? I'm not going to answer the way people think I am, because I might be thinking along different lines of though," Ringo replied without caring. The reporter looked confused for a moment, and then moved on. Ringo turned toward the window, not wanting to talk to anymore reporters.

"Excuse me, err, John?" came a female voice from behind him. _Another reporter_. Ringo rolled his eyes and turned toward her. "No, luv, I'm Rin..." he stopped midway after seeing who he was talking to. "...go." He laughed.

Sarah was dressed smartly in a black suit, with a dark red collared shirt. Her hair was done in a tight bun, and she was wearing black Matsuda brand glasses. Her makeup was over done to add effect. Ringo was impressed. She held a small note book and pen.

"Ah, yes, Ringo, right. Can I call you Richard? You all look the same," Sarah winked. "So, have you met any interesting people since coming to America?" She asked, poised to write down the answer, whatever it may be. Ringo relaxed.

"Uhh, yeah I've met a few interestin' people," he smiled.

"Meet any girls you fancy?"

"Yeah I fancy her," Ringo replied coolly. "She's fab and all that, I must say. But don't tell anyone, it's a secret." He winked. Sarah smiled warmly. She pretended to write down his answer.

"So, where are you from, miss?" Ringo asked.

"Utah," Sarah replied, seating herself in a chair next to him. "And you?"

"Last time I checked, I was from Liverpool."

"What is your family like?"

"My mum's name is Elsie and my step dad's name is Harry. I don't have any siblings."

"That must be nice," Sarah thought of her own siblings.

Ringo shrugged. "Sometimes it got pretty lonely. What about you, any siblings?"

"Two. I have an older brother named Douglas. He's married and has two daughters. I also have a younger sister named Kimberly. She's sixteen."

"Ooh, fresh meat," Ringo joked with a grin. Sarah laughed. A few reporters looked at the pair cautiously.

"Oops, I'd better stop. We're beginning to look suspicious." Sarah stood, closing her notebook.

"Awh, you mean I have to go through four and a half more hours without ya?" Ringo asked as he eased himself out of his seat.

"I'm afraid so," Sarah replied despondently. "I might go sit with Cynthia, though. Maybe you could sneak in there?"

"I doubt it. The press has the whole ride to pound us with whatever questions they can think of."

"Oh, I see," Sarah glanced around the car. A few reporters looked like they were getting ready to approach Ringo. A camera man hopped around the car, occasionally stopping to film one Beatle. Sarah turned her attention back to Ringo. "Well, I'll see you later then. Maybe I'll catch you for another question later."

Ringo's face fell. "Alright."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Sarah said in a professional voice. She turned on her heel and headed toward John. Ringo slumped back into his seat.

Sarah 'interviewed' each Beatle to pass the time. Paul didn't seem keen on being on the train in the first place, George and John staged a fake Marlboro cigarette commercial for the camera man, and Ringo danced around the car acting like a photographer. He would sometimes flash a smile and a camera at Sarah. She smiled back. Nobody seemed to notice.

With nothing else to do, Sarah made her way toward the front of the train. She found the cabin she was looking for, and eased herself in. Cynthia greeted her, and offered her a seat across from her. She set down the book she was reading.

"Where's John's aunt?" Sarah asked, removing her glasses.

"In the dining car," Cynthia replied. "Thank goodness. I thought she was going to bore a hole right though me with those dark, scary eyes of hers." Sarah laughed, knowing how true it was.

"So, Ringo fancies you," Cynthia said openly. Sarah couldn't help a smile.

"I suppose he does, considering he told me while I was 'interviewing' him."

Cynthia laughed. "He's good at hiding his emotions, but not about you. When he returned from walking you to your suite, he was all smiles."

Sarah felt a warm feeling seep through her. She thought of Ringo and how sweet he was. Her thoughts suddenly turned toward James. She hadn't talked to him since that night, and she had left the ring somewhere in the hotel room. Her face fell.

"What's wrong?" Cynthia asked. Sarah shook her head and looked out the window.

"Nothing," she said. Cynthia was not convinced.

"Come now, you've had a rough time already. We all know it. Why can't you share? I mean, I understand if you don't want to," she added quickly. Sarah faced her, trying to sort her thoughts.

"I was engaged," she began. She then told Cynthia about James, and how wonderful he had been to her. She then explained her religion, and what had happened at the club, and at Jim's parent's house. "And that's basically how I ended up meeting Richard... err Ringo."

Cynthia had listened to Sarah carefully, asking an occasional question. When Sarah was finished, she reached over and placed a firm hand on Sarah's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a soft voice. Sarah smiled warily. Tears filled her eyes.

"Thanks for listening," Sarah couldn't help a small hiccup. "I feel like a wreck, all of this crying." She tried to dry her tears.

"Don't worry about it, you've gone through a lot," Cynthia leaned back in her seat. "Are you glad you ran into Ringo?"

Sarah nodded. "At first I didn't know who he was, you know that."

Cynthia nodded and laughed. "I could tell you were totally in the dark. I wanted to say something but Brian told me not to. I'm not sure why."

"He probably wanted to see the look of shock on my face when I realized who I was with," Sarah scoffed, rolling her eyes. Cynthia laughed.

Half way through the trip, Sarah was feeling restless. She was now sitting with Cynthia and John's aunt, whom she avoided the entire time. She was a daunting lady, and Sarah did not wish to speak with her. She flipped open her notebook and doodled for a while.

Cynthia stood, stretched, and left the cabin to do a bit of walking. John's aunt left again. Sarah didn't care to know why.

Finding herself alone, she sighed. _Great, I'm all alone with my thoughts_. She kicked off her heels and put her feet up on the seat, still drawing. The winter landscape rushed past the speeding train. Sarah almost wished she was back at home in Utah, and not sitting on a train alone, going to a place she'd never been with people she'd only known a few days. She then shifted her thinking, realizing she was a very lucky girl. She was on a train with one of the most famous bands in the entire world. Her sister will have her head when she finds out.

The door slid open. Sarah didn't bother to move her feet. She assumed it was just Cynthia or John's aunt returning. Instead, Ringo stepped carefully inside, and slid the door shut behind him.

"Oh, hello," Sarah said casually. Ringo unenthusiastically slumped down next to her. She looked up at him from her slouched position.

"What a nightmare. I hate the press," Ringo fumed. "They're always asking stupid, pointless questions."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Sarah said. Ringo looked at her affectionately. She felt herself blush.

"Naw, I wasn't talking about you. You were great. You could be an actress," Ringo slouched more in his seat so that he was level with her.

"I doubt it," Sarah chuckled.

"You played the part very well. What is it you do, anyway?" Ringo asked. "Do you play any instruments?"

"I am a teacher... well, a substitute teacher. I went to college for a few years, graduated, and then got engaged. The engagement is off now, if you couldn't tell. I hope to be a full time teacher after I've gotten married eventually and had a few kids. For now, just a substitute," Sarah explained. "And for the instruments, I can play the piano, and saxophone."

"Wow, a saxophone? I haven't heard of many saxophone playing girls," Ringo was impressed with her musical abilities. This made him like her even more. "What else can you do?"

Sarah felt embarrassed talking about herself. "I can sing, cook, write, draw, play sports, and work with electronics." She counted each one off on each of her fingers.

"Haha, is that all?" Ringo leaned forward and set his face close to hers. "What about acting? And being extremely beautiful?"

"Oh, right, acting." Sarah didn't know how to reply to the other thing he said. _Beautiful_? Her face flushed. His droopy eyes stared right into hers. She felt a moment of longing, and then turned away. Ringo frowned and leaned back.

"Sorry," he said, turning away as well.

"Oh, no, it's alright, I was just thinking," Sarah said softly, returning her gaze to his face. She hated awkward moments and she felt bad for creating one.

"So, err," he faced her again, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, hand clasped together. "You don't drink because of your religion. What else can you not do?"

"Can't and won't are two different things," Sarah replied, playing with her glasses. "It's against the teachings of my religion, and I feel like I should follow them. We're asked not to drink alcohol or coffee, or smoke."

Ringo raised his eyebrows. "So, you're asked not to, and you conform?"

"I suppose. Although, drinking isn't what I call fun in the first, and smoking is just gross," Sarah made a disgusted face.

Ringo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. All four Beatles smoked, and they quite enjoyed it.

"Oh, sorry, I mean... yeah. I don't mean you're disgusting. It's fine that you smoke and drink. Although, drinking is what got me into this horrible situation. You know, being beaten and then kicked out of where I was staying while carrying only one piece of a belonging kind of puts a damper on things in the long run." Sarah felt white hot rage sweep over her.

Ringo, sensing this, tried to put the conversation back on track. "What else are you asked not to do?"

"Well, having sex before marriage is a no," Sarah said thoughtfully. "It's like, saving yourself for your spouse. There's a deeper connection between a husband and a wife, knowing that you've slept with nobody else but them."

"So you've never..."

"Never," Sarah said. "The thought kind of scares me."

Ringo thought for a moment. He'd slept with plenty of girls, but none he'd really fancied. He really liked Sarah, but her beliefs made him feel like a terrible guy. He felt the urge to stop living the way he was and start over.

"I suppose you can't marry outside of your religion either," Ringo said forlornly. He quickly regretted it. Sarah's cheeks flushed.

"Oh, yes I... no, that's not true. It's just that, if both the man and the woman are worthy, they may marry in one of the beautiful Temples of the Lord, an LDS temple." Sarah didn't like talking about marriage since she had been so forcefully unengaged.

"What does your religion base their beliefs off? The bible?" Ringo had a Catholic aunt, thus being repeatedly forced to read the bible and use his right hand only. This didn't trouble him, as now he was ambidextrous.

"The bible, and the book of Mormon, which is an extension of the Bible," Sarah replied. She started to feel that this was turning into a missionary session.

"Oh? Do you have one with you?" Ringo was generally interested. He'd decided right there to quit smoking and drinking, although he felt it wouldn't be very easy. Sarah shook her head.

"My copy is, well I hope it is, back at James's parent's apartment. I'm sure it's gone now, though," she sighed. "I've got a big set of all the volumes with me, anyway."

The door slid open again, this time revealing Paul.

"There you are, Rings, we've been looking everywhere for yeh," he shook his fist jokingly at Ringo. "Brian's gonna rip your head off if you don't get back to the private car. Those reporters paid to be here."

"Alright, alright," Ringo put his hands up. "I'm comin'. Give me a sec." Paul smirked and then left, leaving the door open.

"Will you come and interview me again? We've still got an hour," Ringo pleaded. Sarah nodded.

"I'll come in after you in a few minutes," she promised. Ringo smiled, nodded, and closed the door behind him. Sarah let out a long sigh, put her glasses back on, grabbed her notebook, and opened the door once more.

They arrived in Washington DC at half past noon. It was as cold as New York, and it was snowing lightly. Sarah was made to get off separately with Cynthia. They followed the troupe of Beatle people through the train station. Too soon did they hear screaming girls up ahead.

"Oh great," Cynthia moaned. Sarah knew Cynthia was used to all this, but she wasn't so sure about herself. She was suddenly very anxious.

"Hurry, hurry," someone called from up front. Sarah and Cynthia picked up the pace as the group rushed through the fans and police. Sarah tried to keep a low profile.

Safely in the car, Sarah heaved a sigh of irritation.

"You'll have to get used to it," Cynthia panted. "They're even worse elsewhere."

Sarah believed her but didn't respond.

"Where are we headed?" Cynthia asked the driver, who was Mal Evans once again.

"To the Coliseum. That's where the lads will be playing tonight," he replied. "They've got a press conference before they perform, and you, Miss Taylor, are invited to be one of the reporters."

Ringo hadn't told her that. Nervousness crept up her spine like a spider.

The Coliseum loomed ahead. They pulled up in the rear. Mal handed Sarah a press pass. "Don't lose this," he said. "They'll kick you out. Ringo would have my head if that happened."

"See you at the hotel," Cynthia said as Sarah climbed awkwardly out of the car, wrenching her skirt down and stumbling in the snow. "I'll watch your things."

"Thank you," Sarah said before closing the door behind her. A police officer greeted her and led her into the large building.

Sarah had never seen so many reporters in one place. The conference was being held inside the stage area. It looked more like an arena with a small platform raised in the middle. Ringo's drums were already seated on a round platform above the other. Sarah seated herself near the back, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

The Beatles themselves made their way up to the stage, followed by a man that Sarah recognized as their press agent, Brian Sommerville. Ringo searched the audience until he spotted her. He flashed her a lighthearted grin.

"Ok, let's start the questions now," Brian said into one of the microphones.

A man in the audience raised his hand. "When did the group first get together?" he asked.

"Well you see, Paul, John and George met at school about five years ago, and we met Ringo when we left school. And we've been the Beatles for three years," George replied.

Paul started to sing, and the three others joined in. "We've been together now for forty yeeeeeears!"

The reporters laughed. After a few more questions, a woman asked, "What do you think of America, American girls, and American audiences?"

Ringo stepped up to the microphone. "Marvelous," he said simply, glancing at Sarah.

Sarah decided she needed to come up with a question before the conference was over. She thought of one that people tend to ask often. She raised her hand. "Who writes most of the songs?"

Paul answered this one. "John and I write most of the records that we recorded. And Brian Sommerville does all the lyrics." The audience laughed. "He's a beautiful lyricist. Listen to him, now. Go on, Brian." Brian shot Paul an annoyed look and said nothing. "He's fantastic," Paul continued. "No, it just comes and goes, you know." Somebody else asked a question after.

The conference lasted about an hour. Sarah didn't say much after. She just listened and laughed along with the others as time went by.

It was almost concert time. Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Neil Aspinall. "This way, Miss," he said politely. "Somebody's going to take you to the hotel."

Sarah looked at Ringo, but he was busy talking to a reporter. She followed Neil into a large corridor, and then out near the street where a taxi was waiting.

The hotel was not too far from the Coliseum, but it was necessary to drive considering how cold it was that day. Sarah admired the snow on the ground, thinking of her own home and how snowy it must be there. She felt a bit homesick.

Neil had given Sarah instruction as to which hotel room she was to go to. On her way up the elevator she examined her now bare hand. She huffed. James was obviously not worth her time anymore. Still, she missed him for what he had been before.

Sarah knocked on the door leading to suite 1269. Cynthia greeted her and offered to order room service.

"I waited until you got back before ordering," she said. "Because I knew you'd be hungry."

"Thank you. I'll have whatever you order," Sarah examined the room. It was decorated more in a modern sense. She liked it. The walls were green with plenty of windows lining two of the walls. Two orange couches sat adjacent to a television set, and nearby was the kitchen, complete with refrigerator and large table. To the left of the kitchen there were two doors leading to bedrooms. On the other end of the room was another door. Next to that was a desk and chair with a lamp.

"Paul, Ringo, George, Neil, and Brian are staying in a suite next door. John, me, John's aunt, Mal, you, and Brian Sommerville will be staying in this suite. You've got a room to yourself," she said, gesturing toward one of the doors near the kitchen. Sarah decided to check it out.

Her room was the same color as the main part of the suite, but with a bed with cream colored sheets and a black headboard. Her suitcase was sitting on top of the bed. A night stand sat next to the bed, and a low bureau was positioned in the corner under a large mirror. Another door led to the bathroom.

"Wow, the Beatles sure have a large budget," Sarah exclaimed as she examined the small bathroom.

"Sarah, the food's here," Cynthia called. She had ordered steak, potatoes, and green beans for the two of them. Sarah ate hers gratefully. She hadn't eaten all day.

"When is the concert over?" Sarah asked after swallowing.

"It starts at eight, and should last an hour. They'll probably be back by nine thirty at the latest," Cynthia replied.

Sarah glanced at a clock on top of the television. It was almost nine. Sarah imagined all four Beatles on stage, getting ready to pound out their last hit song to hundreds of screaming girls. She smiled, and continued to eat her dinner. She almost couldn't wait to see Ringo again.

**Chapter 5 **

Snow covered most of the ground and trees. A cold wind blew from the North. All was still outside, as Sarah sat on her own bed, in her own bedroom. She was home, and she felt terrible all over.

The room still was the way she had left it, except that she could tell her sister had been in to use her record player. A few Beatle records littered the floor around it. "Property of Kimi" lined the bottom of each one.

Sarah lay on her bed, brooding over her decision. She replayed the last few days' events in her mind over and over.

"Please come with us, Sarah," Ringo had pleaded. He and Sarah sat in the hotel in Miami. Everybody else was on the beach enjoying the sand and sun one last time before leaving later that night.

After Washington D.C. the group had gone back to New York, and then down to Miami for another Ed Sullivan show. After Miami, it was back to London.

"Richard, I just... I can't. Really, I've had a good time, and I appreciate all that you've done for me, but I need to go home. This is a tough time for me," Sarah said. Her eyes met the floor.

"I want you to come with us," Ringo pleaded again, taking her hands in his. She looked up at him. "I want you to be with me," he said, pleading in his eyes.

Sarah wanted to be with him as well, but she felt over stressed about James. She didn't know if she still loved him, and she felt it would only mess her up more if she went to London.

"I'm sorry, I just can't." Sarah pulled her hands out of his and took her plane ticket out of her pocket as she stood. "I've really had a good time with you, but I need to go home and sort my thoughts. My taxi will be here soon."

Ringo jumped up and grabbed her suitcase. He had been defeated, but he wasn't about to let her go to the airport alone. "I'll escort you."

"Alright," Sarah felt torn. She hadn't said goodbye to the other Beatles. They'd been joking and laughing all this time. Sarah had felt so included with them, but she couldn't stay. She'd already thanked Brian and said goodbye. He was the one who helped get her ticket home. "You'd better wear a disguise, though."

The taxi pulled up as Sarah and a moustache wearing Ringo left the hotel. He had also put on a navy cap and a pair of dark sunglasses. He opened the door for her, and then put the suitcase in the trunk. He got in and the taxi took off down the road. Neither of them spoke during the ride. Sarah almost couldn't wait to be on the plane. The flight was scheduled for eight hours, so she'd have plenty of time to think.

"Terminal twenty three, please," Sarah said. The driver obeyed. Ringo scratched his fake moustache.

The taxi pulled up to the curb next to a large sign that read, '23'. Sarah searched her bag for the fare.

"Let me," Ringo handed the driver a twenty. "Keep the change." He helped Sarah out of the taxi, and grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk. The pair walked through the busy airport.

After checking in the baggage, Ringo took Sarah to a small café for a bite to eat. The flight wasn't due for twenty minutes.

"I'm alright, Richard," Sarah said. "Really, I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense, you haven't eaten all day," Ringo said, ordering two blueberry muffins. "Here, you don't have to eat the whole thing. Can't have you passing out on the plane, luv."

Sarah took the muffin. They both sat at one of the small tables. A few people eyed the pair, noting the large nose and Cuban heeled boots on the man, but nobody stopped or asked questions.

"Flight 206 bound to Salt Lake City at noon is now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready at the gate."

"That's me," Sarah sighed, standing. She and Ringo headed toward the gate and on to the tarmac. The airport was crowded with tourists who had wanted to escape the harsh winter in the North.

"This is where we have to part," Sarah said, facing Ringo. His striking, blue eyes looked deep into hers. She realized he was just shy of the same height as James. She exhaled sharply. The moustache helped her not feel as guilty about leaving.

"What's wrong?" Ringo asked, taking her hands in his.

"Nothing," Sarah replied, avoiding his gaze. He pulled her into a tight hug. She felt tears slide down her cheeks. A Beatle song popped into her head. _Hold me tight_...

"Will I see you again?" Ringo whispered in her ear.

"I don't know, I can't see it happening," Sarah's voice was muffled. Her face was pressed into his warm chest. She didn't want to leave now, but it was too late. _Tell me I'm the only one..._

Ringo let go. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "May I have your address at least? And phone number?" He smiled a bit.

Sarah scribbled her address and number on the paper. _And then I might never be the lonely_ _one..._

"Last call for flight 206 bound to Salt Lake City," a man yelled across the tarmac.

Sarah watched as the last stragglers climbed aboard the plane. "I have to go," Sarah pulled away. Ringo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"I'm here for you," he said. He kissed her on the top of the head.

"I'm nothing to worry about," Sarah replied blankly. She pulled away once more and half ran to the plane, leaving Ringo to stand and wave until the plane was out of sight.

"So hold me tight tonight, tonight, it's you, you you you, oooo..." Ringo sang quietly as he walked back through the airport.

Now Sarah was home. Her dad had picked her up at the Salt Lake City airport. He was full of hugs and encouragement, and they drove an hour and a half to West Mountain. She felt safe at home. Nobody would harm her here.

"Knock, knock," Sarah heard her sister at her door.

"What is it, Kimi?" Sarah hadn't spoken to her sister since she'd gotten back. She raised her head from her pillow. Kimberly came in carrying a mug of hot chocolate. She was looking as gorgeous as ever. She was only sixteen, and yet she looked like a super model with long red hair, freckles, and beautiful blue eyes like Sarah's. She looked a lot like Jane Asher.

"I thought you might like some hot chocolate," she said sweetly, placing it on the night stand next to Sarah's bed.

"Thanks, Kim," Sarah said sitting up. "I missed you, ya know." Kimberly smiled and Sarah stood to give her a hug.

"I heard what happened with James," Kimberly said sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"Did mom tell you everything?" Sarah asked, sitting on her bed. Kimberly sat next to her.

"Err, like what?"

"Like, where I've been since then?"

"She said that you'd found a friend to stay with for the time being, but that's all."

Sarah groaned. "There's a lot more than that, that's for sure." Kimberly listened carefully to the whole story. That is, until Sarah got to the part with the Beatles.

"You met the Beatles and you didn't tell me?" Kimberly shouted. She had been a huge fan of theirs ever since her dad had brought home a copy of 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand'.

"Calm down little miss, and let me finish the story," Sarah said sharply. "That's not all."

Sarah told the story, all the while watching Kimberly's face shift from different kinds of emotion. When she reached the end, Kimberly stood abruptly.

"Why didn't you stay with Ringo? He's a Beatle!"

Sarah stood as well. "He's not just a Beatle, he's a person. You don't like somebody for their fame or fortune. You like them for their personality."

"I know, I know," Kimberly's shoulders slumped. "Did you at least get all four of their autographs?"

"No," Sarah realized she hadn't.

"Typical. You're an impossible sister," Kimberly teased. Sarah laughed.

"No, you are, Miss Demanding. Go worship your Beatles, I'm going to go visit Brittany."

Sarah's best friend, Brittany Lowe, was pretty much the most beautiful woman in West Mountain. She was almost same age as Sarah. She was a mere four days older. She had short, blond hair and soft, brown eyes. She was five foot five, and always wore the most stylish clothes. She was a teacher, like Sarah, except full time.

"Sarah! It's been a long time, come in!" Brittany invited her friend inside her small house. She'd gotten her own place almost six months ago. Sarah was a bit jealous.

"How are you, Britt?" Sarah asked, taking her coat off and hanging it on one of the hooks next to the door.

"I'm all right. This weather is making me so depressed lately," Brittany sat on one of the couches in the front room. Sarah sat on one adjacent. "How was New York?" Brittany asked.

"Did you talk to my mom recently?" Sarah asked, avoiding the question.

"No... did something happen?" Brittany asked with concern.

"Yes," Sarah sighed. "I'm no longer engaged." She showed Brittany her ring-less hand.

Brittany's face twisted into anger. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? I'll strangle him! How dare he?"

"Brittany, calm down, it's ok," Sarah said softly. "I'll tell you what happened."

Brittany listened but reacted differently than Kimberly had. She filled the air with threats to James, and almost fell off of her seat when Sarah got to the part about the Beatles.

When Sarah was finished, she buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, hon, I'm so sorry," Brittany switched seats so that she was next to Sarah. She gave her a side hug. "Would you like to go out someplace? You know, have some fun and forget about it for a bit?"

Sarah shook her head. "No thanks, I think I'm going to go home. I want to spend time with my parents. I just thought I'd keep you in the loop."

Brittany gave her a tight hug at the door. "Call me if you need to talk, ok?"

"I will," Sarah said as she went out the door. She walked the two blocks back home in the snow.

She was just about to reach the pathway to her door when she heard someone call her name. She turned around and saw her friend Timmy walking toward her, hand in hand with a beautiful young woman.

"Hey, Timmy," Sarah greeted him as warmly as she could. "How are you?"

"Great," Timmy said, smiling. The woman next to him smiled as well.

"How about you, Alyssa, is he treating you right?" Sarah asked the woman.

"Haha, of course," Alyssa giggled. "Although, he snores. I wish I'd known that before."

The three laughed. Sarah had met Timmy in High School. They'd gone out for a brief period of time, but it didn't work out. They managed to stay friends. Timmy and Alyssa had gotten married just three months ago. Sarah was happy for them. They seemed to right for each other. Sarah felt a pang of unhappiness, remembering she was supposed to be getting married in April, but wouldn't be.

"How are you and Jimmy?" Timmy asked. Sarah frowned.

"Not so good," she said. Timmy frowned as well.

"That bad, huh? I'm sorry," He let go of his wife's hand and gave Sarah a hug. "Things will get better, I'm sure of it." He grabbed Alyssa's hand again.

"I'll see you two later," Sarah said, turning toward her door. She didn't feel like talking to anybody anymore.

"Alright, have a good night," Alyssa said. Sarah nodded and headed inside feeling like the biggest loser in the world.

Ringo returned to the hotel suite undetected. He was greeted by John. He and the other Beatles and their entourage had returned from swimming. John and Paul were still dressed in their swimming clothes. "Well? Did she change her mind and fall back into your arms, sobbing and telling you how much she loves you and needs you?" John mocked in a fake Irish accent, pretending to look around for an invisible Sarah. He danced around Ringo until he was shot an incredibly angry stare.

"Lay off, Johnny," Ringo said irritably.

"Did yeh get caught?" Paul asked as he entered the room. Ringo shook his head and disappeared into his own room to finish packing.

"Poor lad," Paul shook his head. John rolled his eyes.

"He shouldn'ta let her go," he said, placing himself on one of the couches. He pulled out two cigarettes and handed one to Paul. Ringo entered, and grabbed one of his shirts that he'd left sitting on one of the sofas.

"She loves you, yeah yeah yeah..." John sang quietly. Ringo had a crestfallen look as he went back to his room. John made a face after him. "What a baby," he huffed, taking a drag from his cigarette. Paul raised an arched eyebrow.

"She's different than all those other birds," he said. "She's got 'morals' according to Ringo."

"Nobody has any fun when they've got 'morals'," said John. He and Paul sat for a moment enjoying their cigarettes. George entered, clean and wearing a suit, carrying a guitar.

"Hey, what's wrong with Richie, eh?" he said, grabbing an arm chair. He slowly strummed a random tune.

"Lady problems," Paul said staring into space. George shook his head.

"You'd think a gurl would fall head o're heels for a Beatle," John said in monotone. "It's like she's possessed or somethin'."

"Doubt it," George laughed. He began to strum a familiar melody. "Hooooold me tight, let me go on lovin' you tonight, tonight."

"Makin' love to only you so hoooold me tight, tonight, tonight," Paul joined in. John stood and began to sing as if he was in an opera.

"It's youuuuu, you you youuuuu, ooooooo..." He held the last note while George threw in a random guitar solo. When John was finished he took a huge bow. Paul and George clapped, and Paul threw him a fresh cigarette. John put it in his front pocket and blew a kiss.

"Encore, encore!" George whooped. He began to play furiously.

"She loves Rich, yeah yeah yeah! She loves Rich, yeah yeah yeah!" John sang. Paul joined in on the 'yeah's.

Ringo entered the room. John jumped over to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "You think you've lost your love? That's because you let her go-oh-oh. It's you that's made the choice, to let her go esca-ey-ape."

Ringo pushed John away from him. He pulled the cigarette from John's pocket and sat on the couch next to Paul. He lit the cig, and watched as John danced around the room making up more lyrics.

Paul leaned over to Ringo. "You could write her, you know. You know you want her back."

Ringo ignored him.

"You love her, yeah, yeah, yeah," John slumped down next to Ringo.

"Why didn't you ask her out, mate?" George had stopped playing.

"Geo, you don't ask a girl out a few weeks after being beaten by her fiancé and then kicked out," Ringo said in a matter of fact tone. He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. _I'm nothing to worry about_. He knew this was hard for her, and he did worry. He rested his chin on his knuckles thoughtfully. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and examined it as thought it were an important artifact.

Brian entered the suite, his hands clasped together in front of him. "Alright lads, we've got to be out of here by six. Bring your bags in here so that Mal and Neil can take them to the cars."

"Yes, dad," John said as he danced toward the door. He had his own suite with Cynthia. The other Beatles scurried to get their things together. A man with a camera followed them around once again, documenting their oddities and packing mayhem. Ringo put out his cigarette, never to take a puff again.

Sarah spent the next few days at home. News had spread about her broken off engagement, and also about her and Ringo. She hadn't told Kimberly or Brittany not to tell, so it was mostly her own fault that others knew. She didn't care, though. It would fade away soon enough.

Sunday evening during dinner, the phone rang. Sarah answered.

"Hello?"

"Sarah? This is Elliott Frank, director of Nebo School district. Are you available to substitute teach tomorrow? Mrs. Harold is sick and lost her voice. It would only be for tomorrow."

"I suppose so. What grade?"

"Well, it's eleventh grade English. Room 58 at Spanish Fork High."

"Alright, I'll be there at seven thirty in the morning."

"Good, thanks a bunch."

Sarah hung up the phone. She was grateful for the teaching job, even though she despised waking up early. It might take her mind off of Ringo. She was sure nobody would bring up what had happened, the Beatles weren't too well known around Spanish Fork, or so she thought.

"Good morning class, I'm your substitute. My name is Miss Taylor," Sarah said, placing her hands on the teacher desk in front of her. The class quieted down to listen. Sarah saw only two familiar faces, friends of Kimberly's.

"Um, miss Taylor?" a brown haired girl asked right away, raising her hand.

"Yes? What is your name?"

"Kelly. Anyway, is it true that you met the Beatles?"

The class sat attentively, waiting for Sarah's answer. She furrowed her brow.

"I didn't come here to be interrogated, Kelly, I came here to teach today."

"Oh please tell us," another girl pleaded. She had sandy blond hair and freckles. "Please?"

Sarah picked up the lesson book. "If you let me teach the lesson, I'll take the last fifteen minutes to answer any questions, okay? But you have to be good and do your work."

The class was silent the rest of the period. Sarah was proud of her negotiating skills. She taught the lesson about writing essays, and then passed out a worksheet.

"Once all of you are finished, we will have the questionnaire. Hurry, though. How much time we have for questions depends on how fast you finish your worksheets. I'm going to go visit a class down the hall for a moment. Be good." Sarah stepped out into the hall. Brittany's classroom was two doors down. She opened the door carefully and poked her head in.

"I'll be right out, Bec," Brittany said. "Ok class, pull out 'Red Badge of Courage' and read for a bit while I step out for a sec." She met Sarah in the hall.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Since when have these kids known who the Beatles are?" Sarah hissed. "They're badgering me with questions now."

"Didn't you watch the Ed Sullivan show two weeks ago? They're big stuff! How could anybody not know them?" Brittany replied. "News spreads fast around here. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told my younger sister, but I did and she told all of her friends."

Sarah folded her arms and sighed. "Four more periods to go," she said.

"Maybe for you, I've got the rest of the school year to teach," Brittany replied.

"But you're not suddenly famous for having met the Beatles," Sarah complained. "Nothing happened anyway except that they wanted me to stay."

"And that's big news, girl. Listen, I've got to go back in class. I have papers to correct. Call me later, ok?" Brittany opened her classroom door.

"Alright," Sarah returned to her classroom. There was a pile of completed papers on her desk, and the students were all looking at her intently.

"Question time already?" She asked, glancing at the clock. There was still twenty five minutes left. "Alright, first let me say this. If I don't like the question, I won't answer, ok?"

Some of the girls nodded. Most of the boys tuned out, not caring. The sandy haired girl raised her hand again.

"Yes, err, what's your name?" Sarah said pointing at her.

"Natalie. So, how did you meet the Beatles?"

"I was in New York at the same time as them," Sarah answered. "And I just happened to run into one of them."

"That can't be all," one of the boys said. Sarah glared at him.

"Listen, I'm not going to spill all of what happened that night, alright?" Sarah snapped. She regained herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. It's just very personal."

A few more hands went up. It was going to be a long day.

Sarah entered her room. It was already dark outside, forcing her to turn on the lights. There was a package on her bed. It was the size of a shoebox, and the outside had her name and address scrawled in sloppy handwriting. On the back there was a return address in London. Sarah ripped off the brown paper and opened the box. Inside, there were four folded up pieces of paper, and a coconut.

Sarah pulled out one the papers and unfolded it.

'_Miss __Taylor__,_

_I was sad to have seen you go. Poor Richie is having a hard time concentrating on his drums. You should come back so that he doesn't ruin our new record._

_Miss you lots,_

_Paul McCartney'_

Sarah set the letter aside and grabbed another from the box.

'_Sarah,_

_Hope you're enjoying the snow. It's cold in London, too._

_I can't think of anything else to say._

_Stay fab._

_George Harrison'_

The third letter was folded at odd angles.

'_Miss Sarah __Taylor__ of Utah in the United States of America,_

_I hope you enjoy your coconut. Hopefully it will remind you of our sweet Ringo and his large, hard head. _

_Hope to see you again someday,_

_John (the man) Lennon'_

Sarah knew who the last letter would be from. Excitement flooded through her as she unfolded the letter. _Don't kid yourself,_ she thought, excitement ceasing. The writing was blotted in a few places, and it seemed rushed.

'_Sarah,_

_I miss you I miss you I miss you! Life is hell without you. You're so _

_beautiful. You left me alone. I need you I need you I need you!_

_-Richard'_

Sarah's countenance softened. She held the letter close as she lay back on her bed. A few lonesome tears escaped down her flushed cheeks.

_Hold me tight, tell me I'm the only one..._

**Chapter 6 **

February faded into March, and March into April. The snow began to melt, and winter was almost a memory.

Sarah hadn't heard from Ringo since she had gotten the package. To keep herself busy and her mind off of him, she helped her brother move to a different part of town, picked up a small waitressing job at a nearby restaurant, and helped her mother redecorate the kitchen and living room.

Often Sarah would get comments from people at her church about her engagement being broken off. The wedding had been scheduled on April 24th, just a week and a half from Sarah's birthday. Everybody noticed when announcements never went out. They'd call and ask what was up, but Sarah refused to give details, even though many of her friends asked for them.

Feeling hurt and confused, Sarah spent most of her time inside the house when she wasn't working. She'd occupy herself by drawing or writing or even playing music. Her sister asked if Sarah would memorize a Beatles song, but she refused. It would remind her of Ringo, and she felt he just wasn't going to be a part of her life anymore.

By now she figured that he'd never contact her again. It wasn't a surprise, seeing as he was a musician, and a rather famous one at that. Plus she was the one that left. Sure, the letter had said that he wanted her and needed her, but that was months ago. She tried to move on, thinking of other guys she knew. She wasn't wildly popular, but she had a few friends. Nobody seemed right, though. Nobody measured up to James, and nobody sparked Sarah's interest like Ringo had.

In early May, Sarah sat in the kitchen working on a drawing of a flapper girl from the 1920s. Her sister sat on the other side of the table, reading. It was a calm spring afternoon. Their mother was outside watering the flowers around the house, and their father was mowing the lawn.

The phone rang. Sarah set down her pencil on her half finished drawing, and got up to answer.

"Hello?"

"Sarah, it's me, Ritchie."

Sarah froze. She'd forgotten about giving him her phone number. A strange feeling crept throughout her body.

"You there?"

"Yes, sorry."

"Good. Wow, it's great to hear your voice again. Listen, we're touring next month and I was wonderin' if you'd like to come with us."

Sarah exhaled sharply. She had spent the last few months recovering from the shock of James's sudden walk out from her life. She firmly knew she didn't love him anymore, but it was still hard to let go of her feelings of loss. She'd also spent so much time at home, leaving felt unnatural.

"Hello?"

"Sorry, Richard. I'm still here." Sarah bit her lip. "I don't know if I would be up for it."

Not only was Ringo a famous musician, but he wasn't a Mormon like her. She didn't want to force her religion on him, that was for sure, but a feeling of longing kept making itself clear.

There was a pause.

"Are you sure?" Ringo's voice was shaky. Sarah's heart lurched. She imagined herself traveling with the Beatles. She knew it would be good to get out of the house for once. At least she'd have some fun, even if it didn't lead to anything.

"No, I'll come," Sarah said finally.

"Phew, you scared me there for a sec. Our first gig is June fourth in Copenhagen, Denmark, then we go back to London for a bit, and then off to The Netherlands, Hong Kong, Australia, and then New Zealand."

"Wow, that's a lot of places," Sarah breathed. She was beginning to feel excited.

"Great. We'll send you a plane ticket that will take you to New York and then to London on the second of June. I've got to go now, things are crazy with making our new film. I'll give you a call with more details closer to June. See you."

The phone clicked. Sarah hung up. She glanced behind her and saw her sister watching her, her book abandoned in front of her.

"What?" Sarah asked as she sat down once again. She picked up her pencil, but didn't put lead to paper.

"You're going on tour with the Beatles? _The_ Beatles?" Kimberly had look of shock and jealousy on her face.

"I guess so," was all Sarah could say.

Under the influence sixteen hours on a plane and also suffering from massive amounts of jet lag, Sarah stumbled off of the BOAC plane in London at seven thirty in the evening on June second. She staggered down the stairs, trying her best to appear as if the flight didn't faze her.

Not knowing who was greeting her, she made her way inside the massive London airport. She collected her baggage and headed toward the North West side, as she had been directed by Ringo.

"Sarah!"

A man in a reporter's outfit, wearing glasses and a hat that said 'press' on it wrapped his arms around Sarah's thin frame, causing her to drop her suit case. She gasped in surprise, turned around in his grasp, and recognized his sad blue eyes.

"Richard, you scared me!" She laughed, hugging him back.

Ringo let go of her and stepped back, examining her up and down. She was wearing a short sleeved, light blue button up collared shirt with grey slacks and black heels. Her blond hair was up in a beehive style, her bangs at a side sweep. Her sparingly makeup-ed eyes shined like dark blue diamonds.

"You are so beautiful," Ringo breathed. His voice seemed a bit rough, as though he was sick.

Sarah blushed. "You don't look too bad yourself, considering you're dressed as a reporter, and not as the Beatle that I know."

Ringo picked up her suite case, took her hand, and led her outside to a waiting car. Mal, the Beatles' body guard and roadie, stood next to the car, wearing a suite. He didn't look at all like himself.

"Good evening, Miss Taylor," he said in a gentlemen's manner.

"It's good to see you again, Mal," Sarah hugged him. He blushed, and opened the door for her while Ringo putt he suite case in the trunk. Sarah climbed in, noting that the steering wheel was on the other side, and then found herself sitting behind Paul.

"Hey, Sarah! Welcome back," Paul said turning around in his seat. He was wearing a fake moustache and glasses. He took her hand and kissed it. Sarah smiled.

"But I've never been to London before," she said, pulling her hand away. Paul laughed.

"Yes, but you have been in the company of the Beatles before," he said, winking.

"This is true," Sarah said thoughtfully. Being in London was exciting enough, but being in London with the Beatles was going to be a whole new level of entertainment.

Ringo slid in next to Sarah, putting his arm around her. Mal got in the driver's seat, and set the car in motion.

"So, what's new?" Ringo asked casually, taking his hat off and throwing it at Paul. He coughed a bit.

"Nothing, actually," Sarah replied. She tried to think of anything out of the ordinary that had occurred between New York and her getting into the car.

"Nothing, eh?" Ringo didn't believe her.

"Well, I picked up a small waitressing job, but I don't plan to stick with it," Sarah said.

"Oh, so now you're an actress, teacher, musician, and a waitress? You never cease to amaze me. How did the folks back home react to... you know," Ringo shifted, but kept his arm around her.

"My parents knew about it, because I told them. They were supportive and such, and it was just kind of nice to be home. When my sister had found out about me being with you guys, she almost had a heart attack."

Paul and Ringo laughed in unison. "That usually happens with females," Paul said between laughs.

"Yes, and she's basically one of your biggest fans. She's got every LP she could get her hands on, and also lots of merchandise. When I came home after being gone only two weeks, she had twice as many posters as when I left."

"I bet she'd want one of them signed," Ringo said thoughtfully. Sarah nodded.

"She was furious when I told her I didn't get all four autographs. She kept trying to steal the letters you sent me," Sarah laughed along with the others. Even Mal joined in. "But, word spread 'round, and I had to put up with bad rumors and also taunting from my ex fiancé's friends. Pretty much I've just stayed home a lot."

Sarah went silent for a moment. She didn't know why she had told them that, and she felt foolish. However, Ringo squeezed her tight, planting a kiss on her temple. She blushed, grateful it was dark in the car.

"Yeah, I told me mum about you," Ringo said, changing the subject. "By the way, you'll be staying with her until the tour starts." Ringo knew it wouldn't suite Sarah to stay with him in his house. She'd told him that her religion basically forbade staying with or living with members of the opposite gender unless they're married. He absolutely did not want to go against anything that she believed because of how much he already loved her.

"Oh? Is that alright with her?" Sarah asked, grateful for Ringo's sincerity.

"Of course. She'd love to meet you. I already told you her name is Elsie, and me stepdad's name is Harry. She's the nicest mum you'll ever meet in these parts, I promise."

"I can't wait," Sarah said, smiling. "What about Paul?"

"He's just along for the ride," Ringo explained.

"Yeh, I was gettin' bored, and I wanted to say hi to you before everyone else did," Paul said.

"I assure you, seeing me isn't the most exciting thing you could do," Sarah said, suddenly feeling unimportant.

"Me mum's excited, though," Ringo said, trying to lighten Sarah's mood. "And I'm glad you're here. Tonight she's preparing dinner for us, and then tomorrow mornin' I'm going to come pick you up to go to a photo shoot. Maybe we can send your sister another poster for her wall after this one."

"You guys have a photo shoot tomorrow?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, but it shouldn't take too long. Brian said you can come too, seeing as you like photography."

"Who told you that I liked photography?"

"Well, you had a mighty expensive camera with you when I ran into yeh," Ringo replied. "I figured it's something you like to do, is all."

"Yes, I like photography. It's just a hobby, though."

"Ah, well drummin's a hobby too, and look where it got me."

"It's got to be more than a hobby, Ring," Paul said, turned around once more. "Hobbies don't bring huge pay checks and lots of screaming fans unless you turn them into a career."

"Hey, I'm just sayin', it started as a hobby," Ringo flicked Paul in the nose. Paul threw Ringo back his hat.

"Whether it's a hobby or not," Sarah said added, "You still owe me a camera."

Paul and Mal laughed. Ringo shrugged. "Don't worry, luv, I'll get you the finest camera money can buy."

After a half an hour ride the car pulled up in front of a large tutor house. Because of how dark it was, Sarah could only see the front door and the lit windows. Ringo helped her out of the car.

"Good bye, Paul. It was lovely to see you again," Sarah said, waving.

"See you tomorrow morning, luv," Paul said out the window. The car pulled away. Sarah followed Ringo through a small gate and up some brick steps to the front door. Setting down the suite case, Ringo knocked on the wood door.

The door opened and revealed a pleasant woman, with a nose to match Ringo's. She had short light curly hair, and was shorter than Ringo, but taller than Sarah.

"Richard, so nice to see you," she said, giving her son a hug, and kissing him on the cheek. "And this must be Sarah," she said, turning to Sarah.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Graves," Sarah said as Elsie hugged her as well.

"Come in, come in, I've got dinner ready on the table," Elsie said as she ushered them through the entry. Ringo set the suite case down next to the coat rack. They both took their shoes off. Sarah looked around, noting the wood floors, and various paintings on the walls. One painting featured a bowl of fruit.

"Me mum loves art. Whenever I can, I buy her a painting or a statue to add to her collection," Ringo whispered to Sarah as they walked toward a door at the end of a hallway.

"Harry, they're here," Elsie called as the three entered the dining room. A man that looked nothing like Ringo entered from a door adjacent to theirs. He had dark hair, and dark eyes, but also had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Hey, step ladder," Ringo said, shaking his step dad's hand. When Ringo was three, his parents had divorced. Elsie later married Harry Graves, and little Ringo called him 'step ladder' instead of 'step father'.

"Good to see you, Rich," Harry said, clapping him on the back.

"Harry, this is Sarah," Ringo said, putting his arm on Sarah's shoulder.

Harry shook Sarah's hand. "It's very nice to meet you," Harry said with a wink.

"Dinner time," Elsie said, carrying in the last dish. She set it on the square table that was set for four. Sarah wondered how such a small table could fit so much food.

Throughout dinner Elsie asked Sarah a range of odd questions. She even asked if Ringo and Sarah were going to get married.

"Mum, that's not something to talk about right now," Ringo said, embarrassed.

Harry laughed. "Elsie, honey, they've hardly seen each other. Give them some time."

"Well, I think she's a very nice girl," Elsie said, smiling at Sarah.

"Thank you," Sarah said, glancing at Ringo. He smiled, still embarrassed.

After dinner, the family and Sarah sat in the living room and talked. Sarah got pelted with more questions, and she happily answered each one, except for the one about James.

"It's a difficult situation," was all she said. "It isn't something I like to talk about."

"That's all right, dear, I understand," Elsie said, moving on to the next question.

Ringo called Mal to pick him up at about ten thirty. Sarah was extremely tired, having not fully recovered from the airplane ride.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at about nine." Ringo said, embracing her. Sarah noticed his voice was still rough.

"Richard, are you feeling alright?" She asked.

"Just a small sore throat, should be better in the mornin'," Ringo said, kissing her on the top of the head. There was a honk outside.

"That'll be Mal," Ringo said, putting his shoes back on. "See you."

Sarah watched him get into the car before she shut the door. Turning around, she saw Elsie.

"I'll show you your room, dear," she said sweetly. "Harry, will you carry her luggage?"

Harry appeared, and picked up the suitcase.

"Thank you," Sarah said. He nodded, following Sarah and Elsie up a flight if wooden stairs.

They turned a corner, walked down a hall, and stopped in front of a door. Elsie pushed it open and turned on the light, illuminating a small but suitable bedroom. It had white, four poster bed, with yellow sheets. The window had yellow curtains, and the white bedside table had a lamp with a yellow lamp shade. There was a dresser with a large mirror above it. On the dresser was an alarm clock.

"The bathroom is just across the hall. Also, the alarm clock works, so you can use it for tomorrow morning. Give a shout if you need anything," Elsie said. "Good night." She closed the door.

Sarah noticed some photographs on one of the walls. She took a closer look. One photo had a picture of a younger Elsie with a man that looked a lot like Ringo, except for his nose was smaller. They were holding a baby. Another picture was of a little boy, whom Sarah assumed to be Ringo. The last picture was of Ringo and Elsie when Ringo looked about ten years old. Sarah enjoyed looking at the photos, picturing herself when she was younger. She wondered what Ringo's childhood had been like. Her own childhood had been pleasant, growing up in West Mountain with two wonderful parents and two fun siblings.

She turned her attention to the alarm clock, setting it to go off at seven thirty. Next to the clock was one last photograph. It was Ringo again, this time he looked a bit older than ten. He was sitting in a hospital bed, his mom in a chair next to him. Both were smiling, but Ringo had dark circles under his eyes. Sarah wondered why he had been in the hospital at such a young age.

Sarah remembered that she was in London. She was actually in London, England. She'd always dreamed of being here. Everything was different already. At the airport, she'd noticed that people dressed differently, and she saw a few people with Beatle haircuts. Her sister was insanely jealous and had tried to get Sarah to take pictures for her at least.

"Sorry, Kim, dad's camera got smashed when I ran into Richard," Sarah had said.

"Don't call him Richard, call him Ringo! It makes more sense," Kimberly argued. Sarah had laughed at her.

Returning from her brief memory she decided she'd better go to bed. Getting up early was not her favorite thing in the world, but of course she didn't have a choice. It was bad enough she was in a different time zone.

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